Normally I’d have a glass of wine to help me relax, but I don’t drink when I’m in my feelings. I’ve seen the damage it can do, and I vowed long ago not to venture down that path.
All dressed up and nowhere to go.
Fuck it. I grab my laptop from the foot of the bed and flip the screen up.
No way am I going to waste this look feeling sorry for myself. My hair and makeup are already done, I might as well get a head start on this week’s content.
I log into Fangirl and scroll through my messages.
Most are inane comments on my last livestream, but members can also send requests for personalized content. It’s one of the more lucrative aspects of Fangirl and a great way to supplement my subscription income.
I read through the requests, searching for something that doesn’t require a lot of prep work.
PediFiend: Hey CurvyGirl, I’ve been thinking about those smooth, sexy feet of yours. Can I get my monthly pics early? Dying to see your fall colors.
I glance down at my toenails, which are painted the same shade of emerald green he requested last month, and make a mental note to schedule a pedicure.
CrushingIt: How do you feel about crush vids? I’d love to see you get those pretty feet messy with a box of fat, juicy beetles. They’d squish so nice under those big beautiful heels of yours. (Bare feet required.)
I shudder at the prospect of live insects crawling on my skin, but my gaze shifts automatically to the dollar sign in the upper right corner of the message.
Two hundred dollars? To step on some bugs?
My stomach lurches.
Nope.
No way. Can’t do it.
Don’t yuck someone else’s yum.
It’s a fundamental rule of camming. You have to be adventurous to make it in this business, but that doesn’t mean accepting every offer that comes across your dashboard. If you’re not into a kink, viewers will know, and nothing kills the vibe faster than an unenthusiastic performance.
I keep scrolling and pause, curiosity piqued, when I see the wordsalien cock.
SpaceCowboy: How do you feel about alien cock? I’m looking to expand my private collection and I’d love to see you ride a big blue tentacle, tits bouncing as you impregnate yourself with alien eggs and lay them for my viewing pleasure.
That’s a thing? How did I not know about this?
I run to Etsy, and sure enough, there are listings for all kinds of fantasy dildos. There’s a jellyfish. Dragons. Monsters. Alien ovipositors with silicone eggs.
Oh, and you can custom order in your favorite color.
Damn. I need to up my game.
And do some Kegels.
So much for making personalized content.
I close the laptop and scan the room, confirming there are no identifying items on display. Nothing’s changed since I filmed earlier, but there’s no such thing as being too cautious. The last thing I need is a stray Waverly sweatshirt showing up in one of my videos.
Mistakes like that lead to exposure.
I grab a pair of red heels from my closet and, as I slip them on, Brady Vaughn comes loping into my thoughts.
What would your knight in shining armor think if he could see you now?
The poor guy would probably be scandalized.
